"...we should pass over all biographies of 'the good and the great,' while we search carefully the slight records of wretches who died in prison, in Bedlam, or upon the gallows."
~Edgar Allan Poe

Sunday, December 31, 2023

The Best of Strange Company 2023

 


Yes, it's again time for this blog's annual tradition of counting down the most popular posts from the past year.  As usual, it's an eclectic lot, with (for me at least) a couple of surprises.

1. The First American Murder.  

This was Number One in a landslide--in fact, for a time it was one of Strange Company's most viewed posts ever.  And I have no idea why.  Usually, when a post of mine gets a large amount of hits, it's because some bigger blog or website linked to it.  As far as I can tell, that didn't happen here.  Perhaps people just like tales of Colonists Behaving Badly.

2. The Best of Strange Company 2022.

A bit of irony there.

3. Dr. Moore and the Fairies.

An Irish schoolmaster gets tired of being repeatedly kidnapped by spirits.

4. Weekend Link Dump, October 20, 2023.

What would a Top Ten list be without a WLD?

5. The Markley Mystery.

A couple's strange disappearance.

6. Over the Bridge of Time: The Vision of Irene Kuhn

A woman's premonition of death.

7. The Witch-Cats of Scrabster.

I would have been very disappointed if beer-drinking supernatural cats had failed to make the Top Ten.  You guys didn't let me down.

8. The Fine Art of Libelous Tombstones

A look at a little-known, but delightful topic.

9. Screams in the Night: An Unusual Mystery at Sea

The crew of a ship sailing in the middle of nowhere hears…something.

10. The Grave at Herm Island

The case of a very enigmatic burial.

And there you have it for this year!  Happy New Year, everyone, and I hope 2024 will be another year of disappearances, insulting tombstones, and even--if we're very, very lucky--demonic cats.





Friday, December 29, 2023

Weekend Link Dump

"The Witches' Cove," Follower of Jan Mandijn

 

Welcome to the final Link Dump of 2023!

The Strange Company staffers and I wish you a Happy New Year!


An ancient Roman mosaic has just been discovered.

The woman who claimed to control the weather.

A dangerous man at the court of Elizabeth I.

A Christmas Eve murder.

A handy reminder: practical jokes and church bells don't mix.

The ancient underground city that was found in a basement.

A very contentious Christmas dessert.

The sad life of Queen Victoria's daughter Alice.

Imagine being known to history as Roland the Farter.

Photos of Old London.

The mystery of the missing prehistoric fingerprints.

The coronation of King Stephen.

And that's all for this week!  Sorry for the paucity of links, but the blogosphere tends to get quiet over the holiday season.  See you on Sunday, when we'll look at the most popular Strange Company posts of 2023!  In the meantime, happy new year!


Wednesday, December 27, 2023

Newspaper Clipping of the Day

Via Newspapers.com



Ghost horses?  Ghost cats?  I’m sold.  The “Hamilton (Ontario, Canada,) Spectator,” October 28, 2005:

BY JOHN BURMAN--The Headless Horseman rode one of the most famous spectral steeds in legend and literature. And cats are familiar fixtures come Halloween. But how many people know Hamilton has both a ghost cat that gets stuck between windows and ghost horses eager to haul a city artillery regiment’s long-gone guns? 

There’s no Headless Horseman in Hamilton’s John W. Foote VC Armoury, but members of the Royal Hamilton Light Infantry insist there are large four-legged spirits in one corner where the old stables and gun sheds used to stand. No one has seen them. But some have heard hooves stamping and harnesses and chains used to haul the gun carriages rattling and jingling. And they’ve noticed the unmistakable smell of horses. 

The best account comes from a lieutenant who bedded down troops in the area some time ago.

RHLI Captain Tim Fletcher says the horses haunt the area known as the old armouries which is that part of the building that replaced the original wooden structure that burned in 1886. There were stables there for horses used to pull the artillery, long since converted to a gun shed for 11 Battery which is part of today’s 11th Field Artillery Regiment. 

There have been no horses in the building on James Street North since long before the Second World War. Some time ago a group of RHLI recruits on a training course were bunked down for the night in the old stables with, as Fletcher says, the traditional military warning to “get some sleep, you’re going to need it.”

As the troopers hit the sack the lieutenant in charge posted a fire picket — someone detailed to stay awake on fire watch — and then put his head down as well. Around 3 am the officer awoke with a start roused by the clink of chains and heavy breathing. One look at the man on watch told him he wasn’t the only one who’d heard it. Snatching a flashlight, he whirled the beam around the room but there was nothing to see. By now other troopers were awake and the room was filled with the sound of horses moving and a faint aroma of sweating horses filled the air. The noises continued for a while and then died down. 

“The catch,” says Fletcher, “is none of the soldiers involved had any idea the area had been a stable until they told others the story.”

The hapless ghost cat haunts a windowsill at the former Hamilton Customs House, now the Workers Arts and Heritage Centre on Stuart Street, a pretty spooky place for human ghosts as well. 

In 1988 a woman named Annette worked for a martial arts academy located in the building at the time. Haunted Hamilton tour guides in the building referred to her as a “ghost magnet.” She reported many strange things in the building such as doors banging cold breezes and a man’s voice telling her to “get out."

But the strangest thing she saw working late one night was the appearance of a black cat apparently caught between a storm window and an inside window frame in the front hallway. The cat looked terrified, with all its fur standing on end. Annette struggled to pry open the window — both had been nailed shut for months — to free the cat. As she pushed and pulled on the window frame, the cat slowly vanished before her eyes.

Monday, December 25, 2023

The Kindly Poltergeist: A Christmas Story

Via Newspapers.com



What’s Christmas without a ghost story?  This rather sweet example of the genre--complete with a happy ending!--appeared in the “Somerset County Herald,” December 18, 1948:

Mr. Henry Transom, M.A.. came to Taunton in 1730 to teach classics at the local Grammar School.  The same year arrived the newly-appointed Headmaster, the Rev. James Upton. M.A., an Editor of Classical Texts, who came from the rectory of Monksilver, and in later years served the Parish Church of Bishop's Hull.

Taunton then was a small town with a population of about 5.000. Many of the old thatched houses in East-street and East Reach had been destroyed by fire during the three sieges, when the town was defended by Robert Blake. Henry Transom was a bachelor, aged 40, and rented two rooms in a charming Tudor gabled house in East-street, practically opposite the present County Hotel.  This old house has gone. 

Henry was a robust Christian, and regularly attended the services at St. Mary's Church. His friends spoke of him respectfully as "Inasmuch."

The craze for drinking quantities of cheap spirit was as common in Taunton as in other towns. This unpleasant habit spread rapidly among the poor of that period, owing to a bad mistake on the part of the government. Farmers complained that they could not sell their grain, and the government thought of a very stupid way to help them.

It encouraged the manufacture and sale of spirits, specially gin, by canceling the heavy tax on its production and the need for a licence to sell it. The distillers now bought up all the grain the farmers could let them have, but the effects of the crude, badly-made spirit on the health and character of many poor people were disastrous. Insanitary houses, bad drinking water and dirty streets encouraged the spread of small-pox and cholera. The death mortality of children was very high.

All this Henry Transom noted with pain and deep concern. He was well up in the history of the ancient Greek physicians, who gave freely to the poor and to the stranger, not only of their skill but also of their substance. In therapeutics the school of Hippocrates waited vigilantly upon Nature: it used physical means such as diet, medicinal herbs and waters, fresh air and gymnastics: it did not interfere violently by bleedings or by drugs. Surgery, by this direct and natural study of facts, attained a degree of positive excellence. whereas in the early 18th century England rough operations were still performed by barbers and apothecaries.

A City company, the Barber Surgeons, would cut your hair, corns or throat in the same establishment. To Transom familiar were the legends about Aesculapius, the Greek father of physicians, who in statues was represented sitting on a throne, with one hand holding a rod entwined with snakes, and the other leaning on a serpent's head, suggesting his power over evil. This study of Greek medicine had a powerful influence over his outlook on life.

Thomas Guy had given a large portion of the huge fortune he had made out of heavy investments in South Sea Company stock to found Guy's Hospital In 1722. Other London hospitals were soon built.

Transom, out of his meagre salary, sent a handsome gift to the St. George's Hospital, founded in 1733. How he did hope that Taunton would follow the example of London!  

One evening Henry, a keen Bible student, pondered long over a sentence that lit up the sacred page:--"I was sick, and ye visited me." Henceforth, his ministrations to the sick, his benefactions to the infirm, including a regular order every Christmas for seven parcels of delicacies to be sent anonymously to convalescents, won him a niche in the hearts of many of the poorest of the poor. He believed that fifty per cent of sick persons needed prayer more than pills, meditation more than medication.

He took many risks in visiting sick people, and eventually contracted small-pox from which he died in 1759, a year of severe drought. Friends who knew Transom well spoke of his spirit of goodwill and graciousness that seemed to impregnate the very bricks of his rooms. Later Tenants reported that the warmth of his personality seemed to survive in the rooms.

A corn merchant. Mr. George Marshall, bought the house in 1801. His only child was Henry, aged 10, who was a scholar at the Taunton Grammar School. This was the year when the Headmaster, the Rev. John Townsend, confined the boys one day to the School premises, so that the curious could not see nine men hanged at Stone Gallows, Rumwell, for bread stealing. in 1802, not long before Christmas.

Henry was laid low with a severe attack of pneumonia. Fortunately, the father was able to call in a nurse very different from the "Sairey Gamp" type of that period. The night of the crisis, which was Christmas eve, when she was fighting to save the boy's life (in Transom's bedroom) she declared two extraordinary phenomena happened. A luminous patch appeared on the bedroom wall on which she distinctly saw the outline of a rod and a serpent, and a man's figure glided past her, placed a gentle hand on the boy's forehead, and a voice spoke quietly: "I was sick and ye visited me." The visitor vanished seemingly through the wall. The room seemed filled with a gracious Presence, there was nothing frightening about the experience. From that moment the patient was on the road to recovery, a welcome Christmas gift indeed!

Those who were told the story and remembered Henry Transom had explanations to offer. Two rooms now apparently became the focus of kindly poltergeist activity. On one occasion a roll of bandages appeared from nowhere, at another time the family Bible was paranormally opened at St. Matthew, chapter xxv.  Pencil markings appeared spontaneously at times on the walls. One marking, iatros, written in Greek characters, was deciphered as the Greek word for "physician.'' Sometimes the house seemed filled with the fragrance of medicinal herbs.

On the 11th of April, 1810, the foundation stone of the Taunton and Somerset Hospital was laid, and everything became normal again in Henry Transom's old home in East-street. His spirit was now at rest.

Merry Christmas to the benevolent spirit of Mr. Transom, and all my readers!

Friday, December 22, 2023

Weekend Link Dump

 

"The Witches' Cove," Follower of Jan Mandijn

Welcome to The Link Dump Before Christmas.

Santa's almost here!


The coronation of Elizabeth of York.

That time Bronson Alcott tried to create a Utopia.   It didn't go too well, as is usually the case when people try to create Utopias.  It probably didn't help matters that Bronson was kind of a cluck.

The psychology of serial poisoners.

The true story that inspired "The Exorcist."

A haunted ship.

The rules of Christmas Eve ghost stories.

George Washington served some pretty impressive eggnog.

When sailing ships had "learning labs."

A comedian discovers that ghosts are no laughing matter.

The strange life and death of "Dr. Gonzo."

The mystery of strange notes hidden in a 19th century dress.

Recollections of Christmas trees past.

Understanding the language of whales.

How ginger, nutmeg, and cinnamon became "winter spices."

Everyone wants a signature of Button Gwinnett.

Some lesser-known Christmas characters.

The different meanings of the word "wicked."

Ancient bricks and mysterious magnetic anomalies.

Has Alexander the Great's tomb been found?

Yet another disappearance in a national park.

A look at Viking dentistry.

DIY vintage Christmas ornaments.

The thoughts of farm animals.  My grandmother grew up on a farm in Latvia. She always thought the animals they raised had thoughts and feelings just like ours.  (Especially pigs; she found them particularly intelligent and sweet.)  It really troubled her that the family would kill and eat them.

A friend of Charlotte Bronte.  Who thought Charlotte really needed to get out of the house more.

A visit to the home of the Benders.

Before there were e-mails from Nigerian princes, there were visits from Zulu princes.

The Thames Torso Murders.

A "humble" Christmas tree turns out to be very valuable.

The meteor shower that some thought signaled the end of the world.

The legend of the "Devil's Talon."

The mysterious death of Thelma Todd.

HMS Dolphin captures a slave ship.

The myths of the Boston Tea Party.

The Kecksburg UFO mystery.

The woman who inspired "Tess of the D'Urbervilles."

That's it for this week!  See you on Monday, when we'll celebrate the holiday with another Christmas ghost!  In the meantime, here's a fun version of this carol.  


Wednesday, December 20, 2023

Newspaper Clipping of the Day

Via Newspapers.com



Bring on the Christmas ghosts!  The "London Sunday Mirror," December 23, 1923:

What would Christmas be without its ghost stories? The children love them.

A Christmas " ghost " has arrived almost opportunely one might say. But it has not chosen a big city like London for its appearance. Cities are probably too dull, unromantic and unbelieving. These things are done better in the country. This year's ghost has chosen a Devonshire village near Taunton as its theatre of operations.

Moreover, Monkton Heathfield, the name of the village, has quite a ghostly sound about it. But the unearthly visitant does not seem to be a monk. It is quite up to date in the sense that, instead of choosing an ivy-clad castle for its operations, it has ensconced itself in a newly-built house. The residence in question was erected for his own occupation by a Mr. Gardiner, a jobbing builder, and during the last few days articles of furniture have been moved about the house without apparent human agency.  So uncanny has the situation become that Mr. Gardiner and his son no longer sleep there.

The trouble began when an extraordinary noise was heard, and Mr. Gardiner was struck on the back of the neck by an orange which a moment before had been reposing on a plate on the dresser.

Other inexplicable occurrences are related by neighbours, who were interviewed yesterday by a Press representative. 

A chair jumped from the floor on to the table, and a matchbox, which was on the table in the kitchen, suddenly rose several feet into the air and then fell to the ground. 

A pair of boots emerged backwards from the cupboard. 

Two Prayer-books and a large postcard album flew from a bookshelf to the opposite side of the room. 

The climax was reached when amazed witnesses saw a lamp rise from the table and gracefully volplane to the kitchen floor.

These things have happened not only at night, but during midday meals, when knives have moved from one end of the table to the other. 

The pepper-box has taken to walking. 

So far no explanation has been found for the phenomena.

Monday, December 18, 2023

Where is Inez Miller?

"Poughkeepsie Journal," July 21, 2002, via Newspapers.com



Once you reach the venerable age of nearly a century, you are entitled to assume that The Weird has permanently passed you by.  You expect to be one of those fortunate souls who end their days in a peaceful, natural, and completely non-mysterious fashion.

As the following story will show, that assumption is not always correct.

Inez McKenzie was born on September 24, 1904.  In 1920, she married Washington Miller, and they eventually settled on a small farm in rural Lynchburg, South Carolina, where she was to spend the rest of her long life.  The Millers eventually had 13 children, six of whom survived her.  The Millers had little money, and had to work hard--Inez often had to work as a maid or cleaning woman to make ends meet--but she was sustained by what one of her grandsons, Greg Wright, described as “quiet grace and strong faith in God.”  After Washington died in 1965, Inez continued her modest rural existence, keeping frequent touch with her many descendants (she eventually had more than 50 grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and great-great grandchildren.)  The petite (4’9”) widow was described as feisty and independent, with a good sense of humor.

In 2000, Inez was approaching her 96th birthday.  She was in good physical health for her years, and showed no sign of losing her usual mental lucidity.  However, her 65-year-old son Burrell lived with her, simply because her family worried about someone of her age living alone.

At about 3:30 p.m. on the rainy, cold afternoon of March 10, 2000, neighbors noticed Inez walking to her mailbox to pick up her afternoon newspaper.  Accompanying her were her German Shepherd and the dog’s two puppies.  When Burrell returned home over an hour later after spending the day working on a nearby farm, he was startled to find that his mother was not at home.  After a search of the home and the property around it failed to find any trace of Inez, the Sheriff’s Department was summoned.

Inez has never been seen again, alive or dead.  Some time after she was last seen, two of the dogs returned to her home, but the third permanently disappeared, as well.  (Note: It doesn't seem to be recorded anywhere if the vanished dog was the adult, or one of the puppies.)

When I first came across this case, I assumed that Inez was the victim of some unfortunate accident.  Perhaps the elderly woman had a slight stroke that caused her to wander off until she succumbed to the elements.  Or maybe some wild animal killed her and the missing dog.  However, when I read more about the mystery, I was a bit surprised to note that her relatives--and, more importantly, law enforcement--were instantly convinced she had been kidnapped.  In the words of her son Albert, “Someone came and snatched our mother real quick.”  Neighbors saw a blue four-door car parked in front of the Miller home at about 4 p.m.  Unfortunately, no one saw the driver, and the car was never identified.

Miller’s house was in perfect order.  Her purse was still there, with a small amount of money inside.  Also found in the home were her dentures, eyeglasses and walking stick.  Obviously, when she left to get the newspaper, she wasn’t planning any longer excursions.

The search for Inez went on for days.  The area was scoured using dogs, a helicopter, and an infrared device that detected heart activity.  Nothing.  Police thought there might eventually be a ransom demand, but none ever came.

"The State," March 25, 2001


It did indeed look as if someone had “snatched” Inez “real quick.”  But who?  And why?  What could anyone gain by kidnapping a thoroughly harmless near-centenarian?  Inez had very little money, and no life insurance.  She owned some acres of land, most of which had been in the family for generations, but it’s unclear if the property was of any real value.  In any case, even if any of her relatives could profit by her death, surely they realized that in the normal course of events, they would not have to wait very long.

Adding to the sadness of this case is the fact that Inez’s disappearance caused an estrangement among her six children.  Some of them pointed fingers at each other as possible suspects in the crime.  However, police investigated all Inez’s many relatives, and eventually cleared every one of them.  And they were unable to come up with any possible motive for the disappearance.

Inez’s mysterious fate had a shattering effect on her loved ones.  Two years after she vanished, Greg Wright wrote that “it was as if the soul of my family disappeared with her.”  The disappearance “cast an eerie pall of suspicion and paranoia over my mother’s family.”  Unfortunately, more than 20 years later, the case remains as baffling as ever.